Chapter 15

Hurricane

XXXXX

"Your base is in an utterly disgraceful and pathetic state," Winter said, her voice icily condescending. "And your means of treatment is an archaic slaughter machine? Is this supposed to be a joke?" James bit his tongue. The Scattered's base had turned out to be an underground affair with a retractable surface. It was hard to tell, he and Winter had been blindfolded for the last leg of the journey, but he had heard a heavy door opening and felt the van being driven down on a ramp. That, combined with the fact that there were no windows in the deep underground corridors, led him to be pretty sure they were underground.

Róta had stormed off the second the van had been parked, leaving the other four Scattered to escort him and Winter. Their arms had not been bound, apparently, they didn't consider the two of them to be enough of a threat for that. Said base reminded James uncomfortably of Vaults, albeit with more of a military look and not with civilian habitation in mind. It was cramped, Jane and Wiglaf could barely make it through the opening and closing doors, everything was metal, and the lighting was dim compared to the outside light. It was in much better condition than any base James had ever scavenged, but it doubtless looked shabby by Atlas standards.

Nonetheless, they had been led directly to an infirmary, one that was filled with a dozen or so beds and a large auto-doc in the corner. Winter, upon seeing auto-doc, was less than impressed. "Buzz-saws are surgical equipment now?" she said, stepping inside and giving one of the many blades inside a careful spin. "Are you planning on disfiguring him even more?" Initially, he had wanted to say something about how auto-docs were safe. Initially. Then memories of a certain bald woman with scars on every inch of her face had crept to the forefront of his mind. And of his own brain floating in a jar. Paranoia slowly started to creep in.

"She doesn't need to be here," Anna said, more to Han than anyone else. "We just need to bandage that leg of hers and she's good to cool her heels in a holding cell. Give me the order and I'll get it done." There was a longing in her tone, she wanted nothing more than to drag Winter from this room.

"Yes, kindly ignore my concerns and get me out of the way so you can carve him up like a roast pig," Winter said, deliberately not looking at Anna. "Assuming you can even power this on." His mouth thin, Han stepped forward and pressed a single button on the side of the auto-doc. At once, it flickered to life, the countless mechanical arms inside it shifting and stretching, looking for a patient to operate on. "Congratulations, you have achieved basic functionality," she said scathingly. "You are not putting him in there."

"This is the same machine I used to install all of my cybernetics," Han said, gesturing to his all mechanical below the neck body. "I can assure you, it's quite safe." That was only partially comforting. James couldn't help but wonder how Han had ended up with so little of his original body.

Winter was about to continue when inspiration struck James. "How about this?" he said. "I go in, but Winter gets to keep her finger on the kill switch?" It was as good of a compromise as he could think of at the moment. And this auto-doc was most likely safe. Most likely. He needed some form of treatment and this was the most painless way, best to bite the bullet and get it over with.

"Do you have any idea what could happen to you if surgical equipment is suddenly turned off mid-operation?" Anna said sourly. "All it takes is one nick from a lack of computer control to cause permanent brain damage. This isn't something where we finger the manual override button. We are not horny teenagers searching for a bra's clip. It-" but Han held up a hand. She fell silent.

"Will that work?" he asked, looking at Winter. Reluctantly, she gave a nod. Han looked at James. He hesitated before nodding. It was either go in willingly or annoy them until Anna grabbed him and shoved him in. And while he doubted they didn't want to cut him up now, Anna might be pushed to that degree. With some help from Wiglaf, he was helped into the auto-doc while Han beckoned Winter over to the controls. "Very well, starting now." He pressed a button James couldn't see. James felt a prick in his neck.

The next thing he could remember, he was lying in a bed, staring dumbly up at the ceiling. His head was swimming, everything felt sore and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He blinked. He still couldn't see out of his left side. Had it not worked? Or had they not even started yet? "Wha?" he said, his mouth not working properly. It looked like he was still in the infirmary, but it was hard to tell. His vision didn't seem to be focusing properly. Han appeared on the edge of his vision.

"Give it a minute," he said. "It's always hardest the first time." Everything went black. When he opened his eyes again, they worked a bit better, but there was still a sluggishness to them. With some difficulty, he forced himself into a sitting position on the bed he was lying on. He wasn't in the infirmary anymore. The bed he was lying on was part of a two-person bedroom that, keeping with the military theme, looked like an officer's quarters. Winter was sitting on a chair next to his bed. Her eyes looked noticeably red and tired, but she didn't let that reflect in the rest of her body language. Bandages were noticeably wrapped around her wounded calf.

He looked around. There wasn't much to the room. A chair and a desk, a stupidly large TV hanging off of the wall, a side room with a toilet and shower, and a burrow. Aside from that, the room was bare. The only exit was opposite the beds. And right now, Han, Anna, and Wiglaf were standing between them and that. His face ached with a dull but persistent pain, one that certainly felt like it had been sliced open and stitched back together. "Am I still in one piece?" he asked, turning to look at Winter. In response, she held up a mirror that had been laying across her lap. Something flickered across her face as she did. Unless James was mistaken, it looked like shame. She wasn't meeting his gaze.

Deciding to rip the band-aid off, James looked directly into his reflection. He sucked in air between his teeth. It was very noticeable. Large parts of his face were still bandaged, doubtless holding skin grafts in place. There was nothing left of his ear, it was entirely covered by the bandages. The damage had not been internal, so if he was lucky he wouldn't have to bandage the hole for the rest of his life. Still, Han had not been able to provide him with a replacement. His eye, on the other hand, was bare.

It was a gunmetal gray for the most part, but the pupil was a light green that faintly glowed. He closed his eyes. There was nothing. Apparently, it didn't glow inside his own eyelid, that was good. He opened his eyes. To Han's credit, his vision felt normal. Both eyes felt aligned, neither was sharper than the other. But his face felt odd. The eye didn't blend in the way his organic one did, he could feel something solid and heavy inside his skull. He pressed his finger against it, ignoring his eyelid instinctively trying to close. There was no sensation from the eye as his finger touched it, only cold metal.

He lowered his finger dejectedly. The skin around his eye, but some of it had already recovered. Doubtless, a combination of Aura and advanced medicine at work. Scars covered him to the left of his eye. Most of it was wild and unorganized burn scars, but he could see the start of a thin line that disappeared under the bandages. It was the one the spearhead had made.

He turned his attention to where his ear had once been. A horrible sinking feeling overtook him. Now that he thought about it, his hearing felt off in a way he couldn't place. He snapped his fingers next to his right ear. The sound came through, sharp and clear. Hesitantly, he did the same on his left side. He heard it, but it wasn't the same. It was muffled, less focused. So, Han hadn't been able to fix that. The cut hadn't done any internal damage, so there was a chance it wouldn't need permanent bandaging. Still, it looked as if he would have to learn to live with damaged hearing.

So. For the third time in his life, he was waking up from an experience that should've killed him. And for the second time, he was missing body parts. He felt tired. Very, very tired. "So. Now what?" he asked.

"Now? We talk," Han said. "I told you that we do good work and I meant it. Aura running rampant across Earth is something that is highly dangerous. But that doesn't mean we don't believe in using it to help Earth." He smiled. "We didn't just shove the portal into the basement and let it collect dust there. We use it to strike out into Earth. Sometimes we make a band of bandits disappear. Other times we get a power plant up and running so a town can experience a higher quality of life. That and everything in-between. If it's within our ability and we don't expose ourselves, we do it."

"How come I've never heard of any of this?" James asked, curiosity overcoming the dread that was gripping him. "I think I'd have heard about a cyborg, Ghoul, and Super Mutant running around playing hero. How did that even happen? What even are you people?"

"To answer your last question, I'm the last survivor of the United States attempted survey to Remnant. Since then, the Scattered has formed by pulling in people who can be trusted with an incredibly complicated situation wherever they can be found. As for why you've never heard of us, we've been staying in the dark as much as we can. Besides that? Earth's a big planet," Han said. "And the US west coast is one of the more stable regions right now. There's only five of us and there are fires to be put out everywhere. Most of our operations in the last year have been in Africa, specifically in what used to be South Africa and Nigeria. They're both regions that are showing progress in recovering. But we try to pop in all over to keep an eye on most places and help if we think there's a big problem. We just have to be careful and ensure it's not a problem too big. Caesar's Legion, for example, is something with thousands of warriors. Not something we can take down without exposing ourselves and potentially letting the secret of Aura out."

"You say that around Róta and she might rip your head off," Wiglaf said warningly.

"Regardless, it's a problem that seems to mainly be solving itself," Han said, not meeting Wiglaf's eye. "They're losing power and influence on all sides. They have a year or two before they collapse at the current rate."

"They found their way into Remnant," James said bluntly. "I ended up here in the first place because I was following them." The eyes of all three Scattered present snapped onto them. Anna looked shocked, Wiglaf interested, and Han was simply horrified. For all their talk about safeguarding from the shadows, it seemed there was a lot they didn't know. "Some of them already have Aura."

Han pressed a hand to his forehead. "You put out a fire and two more have already sprung up," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "We'll have to look into that. Do they have free access back to Earth? Or did things change when you came here?"

James looked hard at Han. The old man was an anomaly in James's mind. Initially, he had considered him well-meaning, if clueless and naive. All of that had been thrown out the window and James was trying to sort his way through a myriad of conflicting emotions. Han had given him a new eye, had saved him from Cinder, and if he was telling the truth, had helped a great many people. Han was also holding him and Winter prisoner had pulled the rug out from underneath him, and whatever other dirty laundry Han wasn't being upfront with him about. The man had already proven himself to be a liar.

But, at the end of the day, there was nothing to be gained from lying about the Legion. If Han was paranoid enough about Aura reaching Earth that he would lock up someone he had promised to help, maybe it would push him to tear the Legion apart. "Yeah. The portal on Earth got caught in a bomb blast. We found it with a dozen or so legionaries guarding it. Most of them died, four got sucked through with me. I doubt it still works, so no legionaries should be coming through. They're stranded here, same as I am."

Han noticeably relaxed. "Thank you, that's good news. The situation isn't as bad as it could be. Still, I should check the far end to ensure that the portal is non-functional. I thought the Earth portal had been destroyed in the Great War."

"Wait, you didn't check?" James asked.

Han held up his hands defensively. "The entire operation to scout out other dimensions was kept incredibly close to the chest. Big MT cooperated with DARPA and the armed forces on development, but they kept strict control over the portal. They brought it to us every time we used it and they never told us where they were storing it. But it sounds like you finally found it. Just give me the coordinates and I'll ensure the Legion can't use it anymore."

James was about to open his mouth when a horrible thought burst to the front of his mind. He glared at Han. "No. I don't think I will."

Han stared at James in confusion. "James, listen. If the Legion is aware of Remnant we need to keep that under control. They're some of the worst people who could be getting their hands on Aura. Ideally, the portal is destroyed, but we need to check, otherwise, they'll send in more reinforcements and make the situation worst. Surely you want them taken care of? What reason could you have-"

"My friends are there," James said through grit teeth. "People I've been traveling with for years. And after the treatment we've gotten here? Yeah. I'm not letting you anywhere fucking near them."

"It seems a rather open and shut matter," Winter said icily. "You would have to imprison or kill all of them, wouldn't you? I very much doubt that's the reunion James was waiting for."

A hint of shame passed over Han's face. Wiglaf, despite James's defiance, was smiling. He leaned back, resting against the wall behind him, his body slack. Anna, meanwhile, was shooting daggers at him. James knew that look. It was the look of someone who deeply wanted to inflict bodily harm on him. He hoped this was one of the times where there was someone or something holding her back.

Han rebounded quickly. "That's fair. You have good reason to not trust me, that's a problem I'll need to fix. I think I know a good way to do that. We'll be heading out tomorrow to use Anna's Semblance to repopulate a local ecosystem." He gave Anna a hearty pat on her shoulder. "Her Semblance is amazing. It gives us so much flexibility with the work we do. After you've had some time to recover, I think it would be a good idea for you to accompany us."

James didn't say anything, he merely nodded. At the very least, it would give him an opportunity to see the rest of their base and maybe even give him an idea of how the portal worked. If Han wasn't stupid, he'd take James thousands of miles away from the Mojave, but James decided not to ask about specific locations. That was asking for attention to be drawn. "If I can walk, that is," James said.

"I suppose it's the only fresh air we'll be getting," Winter said. "Assuming I'm invited and you haven't forgotten that I'm here as well."

"Of course," Han said, giving her a warm smile. "It's wondrous to see. Life being breathed back into a desolate land." He beamed with pride. It was disconcerting, coming from their jailor. At that moment, he didn't look like an ancient cyborg that was capable of firing anti-tank laser beams. He looked like an eager teacher who couldn't wait to share his knowledge. The effect was ruined by the pissed off Ghoul and the amused Super Mutant. Han might have good intentions, maybe he was even honest. Unfortunately, the kidnapping was still proving to be a deal-breaker. "When you see that, I hope it all makes sense. Between the danger of Aura falling into the wrong hands, and Remnant's secret war, you should be able to understand."

"Oh, that? Yes. You spun a very elaborate hoax back there," Winter said dismissively. "An ancient witch that rules the Grimm? A children's fairy tale being real and all-powerful magical artifacts? James's eye and ear were damaged, not his brain." Han let out a sigh. James's mind went back to what they had been told in the van. Frankly, it only sounded moderately more insane than was normal for Remnant. But more insane was still more insane. Cinder has gotten that otherworldly power from a chain of transference that continued after death? And she was answering to a centuries-old witch? He had to agree with Winter, it certainly sounded like a hoax. Maybe if she had been a psychic mutant of some kind, but a witch? No.

"The relics? I saw them in action," Anna said. Her voice had become very soft. This was an uncomfortable territory for her. "I'm younger than Han and Wiglaf, but I'm still old. This mutation of mine? I can't die of old age. When I served, we weren't Atlas, we were Mantle. And I had a first had a view of the King of Vale in action." A shudder ran through Anna and she stopped speaking for a moment. She starred without looking, not registering either James or Winter. Han put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She started, looking down in confusion before realization dawned on her. "Sorry," she said, before returning her attention to Winter. "And the historians who say the Warrior King's feats were down to weather and the desert? They have no idea what they're talking about. I saw the Relics being used that day. His sword split battlefields in half, his staff brought a storm of swords down onto us, and his crown." She shook her head, pressing her hand into her forehead. "I don't know what that thing did, only that I couldn't even stand to look at it. My eyes felt like they were burning."

"Our operations take us into the darker corners of Remnant," Han said, his hand not leaving Anna's shoulder. "We see her thralls looking for fresh supporters. We've picked up enough bits and pieces from them. I'm telling you the truth. There's a secret war being waged against her to keep Remnant from falling into chaos. Ozpin seems to be leading it at the moment, I don't know who lead it before his time. The Maidens and Relics are major pieces in this war from what we can tell. And Cinder seems to have gotten her hands on one of the Maiden's powers."

Winter's eyes narrowed to the point where James wasn't sure if she could actually see anything. "And all of this means what exactly?" James said, still trying to digest it all. He vaguely recalled Remnant having a Great War of its own, but all he knew about it was that it had happened.

"That an already inhospitable planet is actively malevolent to human life," Han said. "The American government wanted to explore the possibilities presented by the portal to set up a nest egg alongside the Vaults. A fresh planet where the American people could repopulate if there was a nuclear exchange." He grimaced. "We ran into roadblocks the second we started encountering Grimm. We couldn't get approval to set up a civilian colony with this many demonic creatures running around. We thought it was bad then. Now that I know about Salem, I know it's even worse. I know that Earth is the planet that has more potential, not Remnant. It is also the planet that needs help more."

"Ok, back up," James said, holding his hand up. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the back of his head, like the early stages of a headache. Something had certainly been off about Cinder. Whatever she had been doing out there, it had felt different from Semblances. It had been rawer, and far more powerful. That didn't mean he was ready to accept the ancient evil part of the story yet, but he couldn't deny that something was off. "Let's assume this is all true, there's an evil lady out there controlling the Grimm. Remnant has always had Grimm, hasn't it? And they've managed to hold on in spite of that."

"Exactly, thank you," Winter said, as if a great point had just been proven. "Even if your claims are all true, which I doubt, this Salem has failed to pose a true threat. Remnant is thriving, more so than any other point in history. If a hostile force is out there, why didn't she strike during the Great War? Or the aftermath, when the Kingdoms had lost large portions of their fighting force?"

"She's a tricky one," Wiglaf said. "Likes to stay hidden and play the long game. Operate through proxies. Maybe she did strike during the Great War and you never knew. Ozpin's predecessor would've covered it up." He glanced at Han. "We were in Australia for most of the war, right? Just you and me until we picked up Anna?" Han nodded. Wiglaf chuckled. "Good times. We should stop back there. See how Lowanna's people are doing."

"Focus," Anna said sharply. Wiglaf nodded, a fond look on his face. "If they don't want to believe us, fine. They'll have to accept it sooner or later. Salem wants this one dead." She pointed at James. "They'll be coming for him. And he'll see just how vile it can get." Winter gave a derisive snort.

"Anna, manners," Han said sternly. The Ghoul woman fell silent, her eyes still twisted in anger. "You must hate me," Han said, looking at James.

"I'm feeling something strong," James said dryly, feeling incredulous at the bizarre question. "I'd just like to point out to you the last time someone tried to put me in a cage, I cracked his skull by banging it against the bars. The last time someone tried to put a collar around my neck, I locked him in an underground vault to starve to death. You don't look like an asshole. But Winter and I are walking out of here. I'd rather it'd be because you let us out, but I'll make due if it's not."

"Well, I've been thinking about it the entire drive back, and I might have a solution for that. I want you to join us."

James blinked. "Hell of a fucking sales pitch you've got here," he spat out. "Can't believe I'm missing the time I thought you were a clueless old fuck." Frustration was starting to pile up in front of him. What even was this situation?

"The circumstances are unfair to you, I admit. I hope I get a chance to make it up to you." He wiped at his forehead. Unless James was mistaken, he looked quite stressed. "Until then, there are matters we need to take care of. I'll arrange for some food to be brought in." He turned. Then he hesitated. "I'm sorry." With that, he left. Anna and Wiglaf were right behind them. A massive steel door slammed shut behind them, locking shut.

"Think we can force that open?" he asked Winter at once.

She shook her head. "Aura has its limits, particularly to the unarmed. Besides, I saw the outside of that door. It's being reinforced with gravity Dust. Nothing we can do can get us through that. And even if we could, we're outnumbered and outgunned. We're stuck here until circumstances change to better favor us. Our best bet? Bide our time and see if we can exploit that mission they want us to accompany them on.

James nodded, adjusting himself so that he was in a more comfortable position on the bed. He couldn't remember the last time that he felt this tired. Winter, however, turned to face him. Even though her eyes were red raw, her gaze was steady. "We need to talk," she said.

James slouched down into the bed. "Winter? I've been mutilated, kidnapped, strung along, and operated on in the last twelve hours. I'm sorry, but I'm exhausted. Whatever it is can wait until after we get a few hours of sleep." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I said we for a reason, you look like crap. We need to get out of here and we're not going to be able to do that if we're both struggling to stay upright."

Winter looked furious at being brushed off, but she quickly collected herself. "Fine. On one condition." She held out her hand. "Give me your pistol."

James stiffened, his blood going cold. Oh no. No no no. Not this, not right now. This was the last thing he needed to hear. "I thought I held that role?" You have got to be fucking kidding me James thought. House was choosing now to pop in, on top of everything else? He had to keep it together, he had nearly lost it back in the woods. God, he just wanted to go to sleep.

He tilted his head. "You noticed then? You've got sharp eyes. Still, I'd rather keep it where it is, make sure that Han and his goons don't find it. I doubt you have a concealed holster on your back. They come in while we're asleep and the only weapon we have is gone if we don't keep it hidden." Internally, he prayed that this would be enough. Winter was a soldier to the core. If he could appeal to her sense of pragmatism and survival instinct, maybe he could get her to drop it.

"I saw what you almost did out there," she said. Eight simple words. All of them were vague, but they were enough to make James feel like he had been shot. His mechanical heart was now pounding in his chest. "If you don't want to talk, fine. But I'd rather hold onto it to make sure no harm comes to you until we clarify what's going on with you."

"What the everloving fuck is that supposed to mean?" Anger pulsed through him as he sat up, glaring at Winter. After all the shit he had been through today this was the last thing that he was in the mood for. He had seen and done things Winter couldn't even begin to imagine and now she wanted to treat him like an irresponsible child? Fuck that. "If you want to act all concerned, don't beat around the bush and be coy about it. Come out and say it, would you? Don't fucking infantilize me."

"Fine," Winter said, venom seeping into her voice as she stood up. "I want your pistol because I'm concerned you'll try to kill yourself. Happy?"

"Fucking ecstatic," James said, also standing up. "The one person I'm locked up with thinks I'll blow my own brains out the second she turns her back on me. Yeah, I'm just dandy. I'm that untrustworthy apparently."

"You are choosing to take this personally," Winter said. "But we both know it's the truth. I saw the look in your eye, the way your body moved. What's more, I smelled your breath too. Things are unstable right now, we just need to take precautions until things stabilize."

"Precautions? Precautions!?" James shouted. "Where was that when Ironwood was talking about developing nuclear weapons!? So what? I can't be trusted with a handgun but Ironwood can play with nukes and you think that's ok?"

"I never said that," Winter said, her eyes flaring as her voice raised an octave. Distantly, James remembered how badly she had reacted to Qrow attacking her on the Ironwood front. This was a sore spot for her. A tiny part of him pulsed with guilt. The rest of him didn't care. "I told you that General Ironwood would understand your concerns."

"That was a limp-wristed deflection and you know it!" James retorted. "I begged you, Winter. I begged you to talk him down! Billions of people have died because of weapons like those Winter, billions! Does Remnant even have a population of a billion? Do you even have a frame of reference for how many people died to these things? And you were just going to sit back and let Ironwood do whatever the hell he wanted because the man with giant airships needs an even bigger stick to swing for some godforsaken reason."

"So, you're siding with Han?" Winter said, crossing her arms so tightly it was a miracle she could still breathe. "The man who strung you along from the moment he laid eyes on you, the one who is refusing to let you go home because he thinks your planet can't handle something Remnant has been using for centuries. You're saying he was right? You think he's more trustworthy than the man who looked the other way when you committed a massacre?"

That was a low blow. That was way below the belt. "I was worried about this long before he got into the picture, but in this case? Yeah, the asshole has a good point. I was talking to both of you about what kind of a shit show you were setting yourself up for. And neither of you listened to me. You gave me a pretty little spiel on how my "expertise" would be taken into consideration, but you knew damn well that he wasn't going to budge based on what I said and you did nothing to help me!"

"I think you've forgotten your bounds Mr. Walker," Winter replied, her nails now digging into her arms. "You are, at best, a civilian contractor. You are not an authority on matters of Atlas security or technology. What's more, I am not your secretary. It is not your place to dictate what actions Atlas should or should not take, nor is it my job to advocate for you. If you failed to convince General Ironwood, perhaps you should recognize that was a failure on your part, not mine. Learn to take personal responsibility and act a little less like Qrow."

Oh, so she wanted to go there? She wanted to compare him to that asshole? He vaguely registered that this was a situation that was well and truly spiraling out of control. The rest of him was more focused on just how mad he was right now. "You're just like Pre-War America," he said in disgust. "You don't think anything can touch you. You never listen, you never question yourself, you're right and everyone else is wrong. Well, look where that got them. If we ever get out of this shithole I'll have plenty to show you! All the horrors that you're openly courting! Camp Searchlight, Vault 34, Hopeville, and-" he realized his mistake one second too late.

He was back there. On all sides, he was surrounded by cracked roads, the husks of buildings, and earth that had been split open. But it was nothing compared to the Marked Men. Their faces were red raw, their mouths open in primal roars, and weapons were in their hands. They carried everything from crude clubs and swords to firearms, to advanced energy weapons. All of them were swarming him, biting, scratching, slashing, suffocating him in a flood of flesh and steel. Through it all, however, he could see him. A man with dreadlocks, a gas mask, and a flag on his back.

"Before you... this is the edge of the Divide. Ahead lies your work, the history you burned in the earth. What you brought to the people here."

His side ached. He was on the ground again. Tears stung his eyes. They were mostly from what he had seen, but part of them were from shame. This was the third time this had happened in front of Winter. She had been saying he was unreliable and untrustworthy. And he had just gone and proven her right.

"James!?" she was kneeling above him, looking concerned. "Is it your eye? Or is it another episode?" Another. God, that word stung.

"Episode," he grasped out. With her help, he pulled himself into a sitting position, his back against the base of the bed. Damn it. God damn it. When had he gotten so pathetic? Before his thoughts could delve any deeper, he heard a rustling noise. Winter had sat down next to him.

She cleared her through. When she spoke, it was with a neutral tone, albeit one with noticeable traces of bitterness still in it. "I forgot that this is a sensitive subject matter for you. Perhaps it is best that we move onto-"

"I killed a town," James said bluntly. He had no idea why he said it. Maybe it was the shame of three episodes in front of Winter and he didn't want her ignoring the elephant in the room any longer. Maybe it was leftover irritation from her treating him like a delicate little thing that would break if left alone. It could've even been that he was tired of keeping it all to himself and he needed to tell someone, anyone, the truth. All of them could be true or none of them could be, it didn't matter at this point. All he knew was that Winter had gone deathly silent and was staring directly at him, hanging on every word. Well. He couldn't leave it half told.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "There was a group back on Earth called the Enclave. They claimed to be the survivors of the United States government. Bunch of facist, xenophobic, pricks. They got slaughtered when I was around eight. The NCR hit them from one end and an independent team blew up their main HQ from another. They had the most advanced tech around, bar none, so the NCR spent years digging through their bases looking for salvage. Decades even. And one day, they hire Mojave Express to deliver a package."

It had been an odd job. Hopevile was a place he had been to before, but never before had he been forced to sign so much paperwork. If he opened the tiny package he had been given, the NCR would be within their legal rights to prosecute him for violating state security. The minimum would've been twenty years in prison, while the NCR could push it all the way up to the death penalty. But the money had been good, so he had taken it without question. "I get picked for the job. Unmarked, paper-wrapped package to be delivered to the town of Hopevile within a strict deadline. I was not to look inside. I head on out, get there with a couple of days to spare. I stay for an hour to get a drink and a meal before I head out."

The meal had been a small one, a cup of water and some jerky. Neither had been particularly pleasant, the water had been dusty and the jerky rather rubbery. "A couple of days after I left, the package I delivered activated. Hopevile and its next-door neighbor Ashton were sitting right on top of a Pre-War stockpile of nukes. And the package had the launch codes for them."

He had heard the news seven days later. The first thing that he had thought was how lucky he had been to have gotten out before it had happened. It would be years before the dots were forcibly connected. The tears were back again. They were biting hard at the back of his eyes, making his breathing short. He soldiered on; he had to finish before he snapped. "They went off. Heat, nuclear radiation, and enough kinetic force to cause an earthquake and create a perpetual dust storm. But it didn't stop there." His voice cracked; his breathing was sharp and shallow now. It was all he could do to keep the tears from spilling out. "I know what you're thinking, everyone there died. But no, they didn't." Winter's breath caught.

"Remember what I said about Ghouls, people like Anna? Sometimes they go feral. Most of them did die. But hundreds, maybe thousands, of people in Hopevile and Ashton survived and mutated. The NCR and Legion had forces in the area who suffered the same fate. They're all barely sane and sapient, they kill anything that isn't one of them. Marked Men Other mutants rule the area now, along with the Marked Men. Deathclaws, Tunnelers, it's a barren death trap." The tears finally began to leak out. "I did that to it."

There was a long silence before Winter spoke. "You do realize what happened can, in no way, be considered your fault? You didn't know what was in the package. If blame is to be assigned, it'd be to this Enclave or NCR." Her words were slow and careful.

"I've told myself that more times than I can count," James said, the tears flowing freely now. "But it doesn't change the fact that I carried that package. I had a direct part in what happened. If I hadn't listened and opened it I might've been able to stop it. I could've destroyed it or hid it. Christ, things would've even turned out better if I had gotten jumped and killed by-"

"Don't say that!" Winter snapped. "Don't you ever act like things would be better if you had been killed. If you had died, who would've stopped Atlas's cyber security being hacked and starting a slaughter? Who would've warned us about the Legion? Who would've saved that family in Vale? Dead is dead, nothing good comes from it. You help no one." She was glaring intently at him. Inwardly, something gave out.

Not looking her in the eye, he slid A Light Shining in Darkness across the gap to her. A wordless concession of defeat. Her glare faltered as she looked down in surprise. "On one condition." Reaching around with his other hand, he undid the concealed holster across the small of his back. "Keep it hidden, we're screwed if they find it." He placed it on the ground.

"Understood," Winter said.

James felt like his heart skipped a beat. He was doing this then. "Please. Take care of it. It was a gift." His hand left the pistol. Winter's hand gently picked it and the strap up. His eyes glanced away to give her privacy as she slid the holster on. He heard the sound of clothing being shifted and leather being tightened, followed by the thump of her sitting down

"Thank you," she said. She was trying to reassume her crisp, neutral voice, but it was strained.

"I wasn't going to do it, I promise," he said. "But...I was thinking about it. I won't lie. It...it happens sometimes. My mind goes to dark places."

Winter nodded. "I understand." James couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the way she said that? He believed her. There was a refinement to her tone that gave James a gut feeling that she had been in a similar situation before. "Please, just remember something. You've proven yourself invaluable. In your weeks in Remnant, you have saved thousands of lives. You've given us intelligence on the Legion that could have taken months for us to gather on our own. What's more, if E-DE made it back, your quick thinking exposed dangerous infiltrators. Never forget that."

Guilt swarmed through James. He had been screaming at her a minute ago and she was comforting him. "Listen, the things I said-" but Winter held up a hand.

"We both said things," she said. "We are both tired, under heavy stress, and recovering from serious injuries. She reached around her back, flicked open a pocket in her coat, and produced a bar wrapped in silver. Biting the wrapper, she tore it off and revealed something brown, separated into a dozen squares. Winter snapped it in half, handing James six of the squares. "It's MRE. Not the best, but I think we both need something in our stomachs right now."

James nodded as he took his share of the bar. It didn't look that appetizing. That wasn't a big deal though, food was food. Sometimes you had to pinch your nose and close your eyes when you ate; it beat starving. And he was starting to feel hungry. Closing his eyes, he bit into the bar and braced for the rancid taste.

It never came. Instead, a wonderfully sweet feeling exploded across his taste buds. His eyes snapped open. This was good. Son of a bitch, this was really good. "You were just carrying something like this around?" he asked incredulously.

Winter blinked. "It's chocolate," she said, a little taken aback. "Do you not have chocolate back on Earth?"

"This is chocolate!?" James blurted out. "Holy shit, America had stuff like this? No wonder they were all so fucking fat!"

Winter let out a choked snort of laughter. James blinked in surprise. He had never heard Winter laugh before. Heck, getting her to smile was on the difficult end of things. "I'm sorry, what?" she asked. Her face had the scrunched up look of someone who was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Oh yeah. Apparently, America had a lot of fat People. Arcade said obesity was one of their main health problems before the war." He shook his head. "They had that much food? Doesn't seem real." The chocolate was still delightfully sweet on his tongue. "It was this good too? Wow." This didn't seem real. He turned over the bar in his hand. She was sharing this with him, and she did so idly. Was it really that common?

His line of thought was broken by a gentle rapping on the door. Both he and Winter stiffened. "Hello?" It was Rita's raspy voice. "Have food. If want." James looked at the chocolate in his hand. It was tasty, but there was only a couple of bites to it. And he was hungry.

"Come in," Winter said, her voice frosting over. There was the sound of unlocking and the door slid open. James had to do a double-take. Róta stepped over the threshold, carrying a simply gargantuan platter that was ladened with food. Two dozen sandwiches that were oddly circular with a meat patty in the center took up the center. Aside from that staple ingredient, no two were identical. In addition, the sandwiches were surrounded by a pile of golden wedges, a bowl stuffed with green plants, and a giant pitcher of water that was filled to the brim, coupled with glasses.

James gawked at the massive display of food. Róta noticed. Her face turned red as she stepped forward and lay the platter down in front of them. "Not know burger preference," she said abashedly. "Made all combinations." She pointed. Squinting, James saw each sandwich had a folded piece of paper in front of it. One read "cheddar, grilled onions, lettuce, BBQ sauce." Another had "toasted bun, ketchup, bacon." A third said "Sesame seeds, mayonnaise, white onions, and lettuce." They went on like this, with some resembling another, but with there being no true repeats.

"Should have asked," Róta said. "Let know if need more." More? It'd be a miracle if he and Winter could get through a quarter of this. "I make...wait." Frustration flashed on her face. Kneeling down, she produced a thick pad of paper that had been tucked under her arm. At the top, a pen was clipped on, one that she grabbed. Furiously, she began to write. After a minute, she flipped the pad and showed it to James and Winter. Confused, they both leaned in.

"I sound like an imbecile when I talk, I can't stand it. But every word hurts and it's agony if I don't keep it short. Writing lets me get across what I want to say without sounding like a Neanderthal. Is this ok?" It certainly wasn't the oddest way James had communicated with someone. He nodded. "Thank you," she wrote. "This wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to be home by now. Han frustrates me sometimes. He's extremely rigid in the direction he takes the Scattered. We vote on it, but the others tend to agree with him. I'll talk to him, I'll find a way to make this right. You deserve to go home."

Memories of the van ride came back to him. Róta has been the only Scattered to object to this whole situation. It counted for something. Though it was yet to be seen if it was much of something. Another thought came back. Róta knew about the Legion. He had to be careful here. "You're a tribal, aren't you?" It was a simple conclusion to draw. Anna was the only Scattered native to Remnant, Róta was covered in tattoos, favored bladed weapons, and she hated the Legion. Róta nodded. "What was your tribe?"

"The Einherjar," Róta scribbled. "We were based out of New Mexico. There were a thousand of us at our height." She stopped writing, her pen shaking in her hand. James didn't need to be a psychologist to read the writing on the wall. Reaching out, he took her hand in his. Instinctively, she darted for the ax on her back. She faltered when James gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he said. He meant it. Regardless of what the Scattered had done to him, Róta had not deserved whatever fate the Legion had inflicted on her people. Something flicked in Róta's eyes, but it left as soon as it had come. "Are there any others?"

She shook her head. "Only me," She rasped.

James scowled. Her tone of voice was one that he knew. It carried a heavy finality, one used by a person who had accepted a horrible loss. Hatred for the Legion bubbled to life inside of him. "Caesar is either dead or dying. You should know that." She blinked in surprise. James tapped the side of his head. "Brain cancer. An advanced form of it at that."

Róta stared at him. Then, without warning, she let out a weak whoop of laughter. With no hesitation, she grabbed James and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Initially touched, James quickly realized just how hard the tattooed woman was squeezing him. Pain was starting to jolt through his ribs. "Too hard!" he said, gasping the words out. She let go at once, looking abashed.

"Please be careful. He did just come out of surgery," Winter said as James felt air rush back into his lungs. That had been a Lily grade hug.

Blushing, Róta returned to her notepad. "And Legate Lanius? Does he still live?" She was writing so frantically that her handwriting was barely legible.

"Sadly," James said. "Met him at Hoover Dam. Shot most of a magazine into him. Wasn't even limping when he walked away." Róta stared at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Once again, James had an easy time connecting the dots. "You fought him, didn't you."

She let out a growl. It was a weak thing, but James could still hear the hatred in it. "He did this to me," she wrote, pointing at her throat with her free hand. "Tried to snap my neck. I only got away by throwing myself down a cliff face. I had been charged to lead a team of ten to assassinate him." Róta didn't write anything else after that. Judging by the sharp intake of breath from Winter, she had drawn the same conclusion as him. None of those ten had survived.

"How many legionaries have you killed?" Róta wrote after a pause.

"Sixty or seventy at the minimum," James said. It was hard to keep track, and the number was in constant flux.

She gently pressed her fist into his chest and slid the paper forward. "When your time comes, Valkyries will ferry you to Valhalla. A warm place where you will feast for all eternity and your name will be toasted. You have more than proven yourself." James nodded, not having any idea what she had just said. Slowly, she got to her feet. "I will get you out of here," she said, noticeably grimacing from the strain of speaking. "I'll...I'll find something. Please, eat." Giving both of them a guilty look, she turned and left, the door closing behind her.

"She seems nice," James said hesitantly. Internally, his brain was lining up everything he had just learned. The Scattered had spent some time near Legion territory then, so they would have some familiarity with it. More importantly, Róta was the closest thing Winter and he had to a friend in this place.

"Relatively," Winter said coolly. "By the low standards they've set." She glanced down at the large tray that had been set before them. "We should eat." James nodded. He was about to help himself to one of the sandwiches when a soft tapping noise came from the door. "Róta?" he said. There was no answer, simply more tapping. Getting up, James crossed the room and pressed an ear against the door. The tapping continued. Whatever was making it didn't sound very big, nor was it hitting the door very hard. "Is this a hazing thing?" James asked, feeling annoyed.

The moment he spoke, the tapping stopped. "It's some sort of psychological trick," Winter said softly. "Anna most likely. She seems the most spiteful of the five of them." That was an understatement. "James." She pointed at the tray. "Eat." She wasn't asking. Shooting one last glance at the door, James headed back, sitting down next to Winter. The pair of them ate in silence. The food was good, honestly some of the best that James had ever had, but his mind was drifting elsewhere. What had that been all about? What was Han doing right now? Had anyone noticed that they were missing? Was the talk about Maidens, Relics, and Salem true. Where was Cinder?

Gently, he ran his fingers over his new eye. Cinder. Cinder Fall. She had made the same mistake Benny had. The mistake that Marko and Adam had gone on to repeat. She had left the job half-finished.

Eventually, halfway through his third sandwich, his stomach announced that it was full. Putting it down, he leaned back against the bed. Weariness was beginning to take its toll, pushed on by his now full belly. He should probably get into the bed. And he would. In a minute. He was just going to take a minute to gather his strength. That was what he told himself anyway. Slowly, his eyes closed. Just a minute he thought. It was the last thought he had before sleep took him.

XXXXX

Qrow hopped along as fast as his bird feet would carry him. The Ice Queen and Walker were alive behind that door. Good. But he was going to have to be very careful in planning a way out for them. These people had been able to hold their own against a half Maiden and her flunkies. One or two, Qrow could take in a pinch. Three or more and the odds would be against him. And Walker had been a bad state, on top of only being a so-so fighter to begin with. If it came to a fight, he and the Ice Queen would have to do the heavy lifting.

His best bet would be to find an armory or wherever the pair's weapons were. After that, he would have to wait until this band of weirdos went to sleep. Even if some of them stayed up to keep watch, it would be better than all of them being alert. When he had his opening, he would break the two out, arm them, and get them out. It wasn't the best plan, but it was all he had to work with.

He continued hopping, staying as far behind the one called Róta as he could without losing her. There wasn't enough room for him to fly in here without drawing attention, so he had to take the slow but safe route. She was walking down a long corridor when she ran into the one that glowed. Qrow had only been able to start overhearing these people when they had gotten out of the van, and at her moment barely knew any of their names. So he had invented some. This one was Night Light.

She was out of her bulky armor and in white fatigues. Róta moved to pass her but the glowing woman took her by the arm. Leaning in, she whispered something that sounded like "I'm sorry," into Róta's ear before gently kissing her cheek. Róta's face softened, but only by a tiny amount. She gestured to Night Light and continued walking, the other woman following reluctantly. Qrow continued to tail them. It was going to be a hard rescue, but he was in his element. He had this.

XXXXX

Author's Note: Writing this was not fun. But if there's something I've learned about writing, it's that you need to follow the logical conclusions of the characters you create. You can think up scenarios to put them in and think up the characters, but once you introduce both of those factors, you have to follow the logical conclusions on how character X would react to situation Y. And...well, after seeing the way James acted, Winter would try to get his pistol away from him for his own safety, James would be a combination of ashamed of what nearly happened and not want to admit there was a problem and...things escalate from there, with already existing tensions coming out to play.

Also yes, I know it's not DARPA in the Fallout verse, but I refuse to type out the acronym DERPY.

On another note. This chapter is shorter than usual and I think I like it that way. Big chapters take longer to write and I think the size they've ballooned to stresses me out at times. I've been in a habit of writing three scene chapters for awhile now, something that's become more complicated as time goes on and my writing style and approach to narrative has become more complicated. I've been moving away from it being my default and I'm going to start doing it even more now.

To be transparent, I've been a bit worried that I might be suffering from burnout. I've been writing since 2009, eleven years by this point. Technically even longer, I just removed my oldest stories because they were truly awful. I've gone from a high school student to a college graduate with a full time job since then. I just don't have the same energy for writing that I used to when grades were my primary concern. I've actually had to close my because I just couldn't keep up with it. And the long chapters I think made it worse. Working for months on chapters that just keep getting longer and longer, with feedback that doesn't match because the scale, let's be frank, no one is going to point out the details in a 15k+ chapter, everything gets lost in the noise. So hopefully shorter chapters will result in less stress on my end by letting me update and interact with the audience more often. I

Also I should probably finish that story I've been writing since 2012 and haven't updated since 2019. It only has two chapters left...ugh. *Smacks self in face* Get it done Ert.

I would like to thank my legacy Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Ryan Van Schaack, ChaosSpartan575, and LordofNaught for their amazing support.